Normally, I don’t mention my birthday. At 45, it’s really not much of a big deal. Today was mildly different. Hubby called me in the morning (we usually talk in the evening, so a morning call is special–but not unusual on birthdays or anniversaries). I got to work, did my recumbent bike workout (Yes, Carter, the recumbent bike is wonderful–it’s traditional bikes I don’t care for), stopped in the office for a bit and lost track of time. I was about five minutes late to walk across the street to the tennis courts where the office meets to do group PT once a week. They were just finishing jumping jacks (which I have to do a modified version of because of my knees anyway) when I joined the circle. They made a joke about being just in time for push ups, handed me a card, and sang “Happy Birthday” to me. Then we did pushups and the rest of our workout.

Later, a group of us walked over to the Club for lunch together, and one of my officemates bought me lunch. Seven or eight of us going to lunch together isn’t unusual, but it was thoughtful for someone to buy my lunch.

I like my job and the people I work with. Do you know how unusual that is?